


A Storm is Coming

by thescorpiondoctor



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Backstory, Decepticons - Freeform, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Genetic Engineering, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Minor Character Death, Nature Versus Nurture, Original Character(s), Physical Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Underdog, Unethical Experimentation, genetic experiment, our scars make us who we are, overcoming the past, size isn't everything, survival against the odds, the past does not define you
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-18 05:18:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16111649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thescorpiondoctor/pseuds/thescorpiondoctor
Summary: Sometimes the brightest sparks lie within the smallest forms. Or at least, that's what Stormshift wants to believe. It's hard being at the bottom of the pecking order in a flying bucket of decepticons, and Stormshift is no exception. Life aboard the Nemesis is an everyday hazard, with the young femme scurrying about under the feet of the mightiest of warriors. One day, this bright spark dreams of her time to shine, but for now she's just target practice for the vehicons. It's sink or swim in this grueling struggle for survival, and only time will tell whether Stormshift will stay afloat.





	A Storm is Coming

The lights of the corridor were dimmed, frightfully so. A recent skirmish on one of the lower decks had caused a temporary power outage to that sector, plunging that hallway into darkness. Or well...it was darker than it usually was, as the lighting within the decepticon warship was never really that bright. The maintenance crews were sure to fix the lighting in no time once the power outage had been brought to the attention of Lord Megatron. But for now, that dark and lonely hallway was a safe haven for a tiny femme seeker who lay huddled in the corner.

She was frightfully small, dwarfed in comparison to even the common vehicon and eradicon troopers who often found it a sport to use her for target practice. The only reason they hadn't killed her yet was that she was a top secret decepticon genetic experiment, having been built for the purpose of diffusing explosives, sniffing out traps, and possibly even spying on the enemy if she could be properly controlled. For now, she was a bit of a wild card. It wasn't that she had any issues with following orders, it was more that all of the harsh treatment and physical violence the young femme had received in her short life had made her become timid and prone to flinching at the slightest sound. She also had a fainting problem that was an almost pavlovian response to any sort of trauma. It would only be a matter of time before Megatron ordered her termination. That is, if he saw an insignificant scrap like her even worthy of the effort of termination.

No one ever seemed to care for her suffering. No one saw the bright spark within that tiny quivering creature. It was almost like she didn't exist. No one saw her dreams of fighting gloriously in battle among the greatest decepticons of all time. No one saw how she struggled day in and day out to gain an inkling of someone's approval, only to have her hopes dash and her dreams shattered under the feet of much more imposing and dangerous mechs. The little femme hated most of them, how they went about their lives, all with a purpose and a design. Even though most of them were just expendable cannon fodder, at least they knew their place in the decepticon cause. The young femme didn't know her place. All she knew was that compared to them, she was useless. Compared to them, she knew she would never belong.

She sighed to herself, noticing the bright blue glow of energon trickling down her plating. She had run away so fast that she hadn't cared to look at how hurt she was, and now she realized that she had left a trail for them to follow. She shuddered at the thought of being followed, knowing full well of the danger she was in. Sure the troops had orders not to kill her, but that had never stopped them from severely maiming her for a bit of fun. It was all she could do to run away and lurk in the shadows, avoiding fights before they happened. There was a tapping sound around the corner, footsteps clinking against the metal plating of the floors. The femme froze, her mint green and black plating barely visible in the dim lighting of that corridor. Someone was coming, and they seemed to be approaching fast. In her current state, there was no way she could escape. She needed to rest. She had lost too much energon in the scuffle that had led her to hiding in that particular hallway. As the footsteps drew closer, she couldn't help but feel her spark pulsing in her chest and all of her internal workings begging for her to do something to insure their survival. 

A silvery helm atop a purple plated body poked its way around the corner, its thin red visor noticing the energon on the floor and regarding it with scrutiny. To the young femme's horror, the new arrival's gaze followed the trail of energon straight to her face and she found herself looking him in the optics. And then, the mech did the unthinkable. He stepped into the darkened hallway and sat down right across from her with a loud "THUNK" as its aft clumsily hit the ground. The femme looked up at him, her wings twitching nervously as her optics fell on the red glow of his thin visor that illuminated his faceplate, the kind of faceplate she had seen a thousand times every day. He was just a standars issue trooper, a nondescript decepticon drone probably forged from the same mold as all the others. And yet, as she looked into his visor, something about him seemed different. 

"Hi." he said, his voice slightly static and garbled, as if it had been forcefully altered, maybe as some form of cruel punishment. "Designation?" he added, tilting his helm in a questioning look. 

The femme was taken aback by his words, having expected him to try to hit her or chase her or shoot her or anything but this. Like a mouse caught in a trap, she trembled for a moment before she answered. "St-stormshift." she stammered, her optics wide and full of uncertainty as she studied his faceplate, trying to predict his next move. He just sat there looking at her, almost as if he had no idea what he was or where he was or what he was doing. 

At hearing her name, he paused and then tapped his chestplate with a servo. "Glitchhead." he said. 

"I am NOT!" she interjected, indignantly crossing her arms. 

He continued to stare at her unblinking, not that vehicons could blink with those visors of theirs. Stormshift narrowed her optics and then watched as he tapped his chestplate again and once more said "Glitchhead." 

"Wait, you mean.... that can't seriously me your name, can it?" she asked, leaning forward. 

He continued to just sit there, looking at her as if it was completely normal to have such an insulting name. And then he nodded.

"Oh come on! you can't seriously be called that! What's your serial number, or do you not even have one of those?" She asked.

He sat there for a moment, and then lifted one of his arms and pointed at the area under it with a servo and said, "Armpit." 

Stormshift chuckled. "Well, what does it say?" she coaxed, reaching a servo towards him. A few drops of energon trickled onto the floor from a blaster wound on her arm fin and he seemed to freeze up for a moment. 

"Hurt." he said, gingerly reaching forward and cradling her outstretched hand in his two big lumbering servos. 

Stormshift narrowed her optics at him, pulling her servo back. "I'm fine. It's...it's nothing." 

"Why hurt?" he asked, his voice sounding almost...concerned. 

"I got jumped by a couple of the troops. It's not that bad. You don't need to get all sad about it. I get scratched up like this almost every day. I think it's gotten to a point where Knockout is sick and tired of seeing my face, and I don't blame him." she replied.

"Knockout." The vehicon said, before he pulled himself to his feet and loomed over the young femme. He was nearly twice her height.

"Yes. I said Knockout. You know, the medic? As in can't stop admiring his reflection in his finish buff this Knockout? You seriously can't be that stupid, can you?" Stormshift said, taking a step back as her wings did another nervous little twitch.

"Medic. Knockout. Now." he said, before pointing off in the direction of the med bay.

"I told you, I'm fine!" Stormshift protested. 

'Glitchhead' took a step forward and looked down at her. Stormshift let out a nervous little squeak, unsure of his intentions. So many times had she been in a similar situation, and none of those times had it ever ended well. "Uhm....wh-what do you w-w-want?" she stammered. She backed up only to realize that she had no more room to back up and she was cornered against the wall. The vehicon reached out both of his servos and grabbed her around the waist, hoisting her up over his shoulder and holding her in place so she couldn't escape. 

"H-hey! Put me down! What do you think you're doing?!" she squealed. 

"Medbay." he said, before surging forward and out of the darkness of the blackened hallway. Stormshift cringed as her optics adjusted to the light, and she squirmed in his grasp, quickly realizing that it was no use to free herself and that he was dead set on what he was doing. Before she knew it, he had carried her down the hall and into the medbay where he placed her down on one of the examination tables, looking at her as if concerned, not that she could really distinguish any emotion on his generic vehicon face. Immediately, the tiny femme leaned forward and tried to climb down from the exam table, only to feel a firm servo hooking itself on her back plating between her wings. 

"No. Stay." Glitchhead said, his tones stubborn and unyielding. 

"It's nothing! It's just a little blaster wound! I'm fine! Knockout will have my head for this! He told me not to bother him during his off hours. Now will you just let me go already?" Stormshift protested. 

"You. Call. That. Nothing?" he said, gently lifting her arm and pointing at the gaping blaster hole in her arm fin and the energon that was readily draining out of the wound. 

"I've had worse?" she said with a shrug. 

Glitchhead stared at her, not really saying anything in reply. He didn't have time to reply before footsteps clicked on the metal floor in the hall, and Stormshift uttered a tiny gasp of "Uh-oh..."


End file.
